Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)

Kittens are the only thing that are insofar incorruptible (successfully; unsuccessful attempts at kitten corruption have happened, probably).

until they become bird killing cats.
back to the topic.

Never say 'back to the topic' in the AMW. It's a paradox.

Thoad: "Yo strop, you have mindf*cked me so many times I think I have jizz on my prefrontal cortex."

WHAT TO EXPECT from the next segments of story:

Devoidless tricks Dank into saying something vaguely homoerotic.

Cen's run of horrible luck continues, Strop tries to cheer him up. And fails. Much to Zophia's amusement.

THE MYSTERIOUS WOMEN.

See Strop get strangled by his own Strop-on!

Nekkid Strip. Cen disapproves. THEY ARGUE!!!

Leon McAcid saves the day, or does he!?

So I'm assuming we have to sign up somewhere else to see this next segment...providing our credit card details to prove that we're over 18?

Hmmm...

So. I just finished writing what is officially the biggest scene in the WoM. It comes in at 10167 words, which is 235 more than Xzeno and Crimsonblade's massive semifinals entry. I'm considering making it a "chapter" on its own, seeing as it brings to a head a few ongoing strands in the story.

This is why I've been taking so long. You can blame Xzeno for thinking up the prank he did at the end of the Rap Battle. But it has quite a few characters featuring in it, I hope you take the time to read it when I post it. Now there's just a handful of short snippets, and we'll BE READY TO GOOOOOOOOO!

Part Nine and a Half: Doctor Pony and Mister Leon

Strop almost tripped over a dozing hyena as he entered the room. After taking a moment to regain his composure, he turned to the hyena man.
"You know, you shouldn't bring pets to the hospital." Strop said with a hint of indignation. "It's technically- what are you doing?" Leon was staring intently into a jar of faintly glowing blue liquid, which he held at eye level. Strop recoiled slightly as he saw the jar contained what appeared to be a hyena foot. He looked down to see that left Leon's foot was missing; only a cauterized stump remained. Leon swirled the foot around in the jar, staring at it intently. Strop stared equally intently. Leon, apparently unsatisfied with the result of the swirling furrowed his brow and swirled the foot around a few more times.
"Uh, Leon, what are you doing?" Strop repeated, a little louder.
"Cleaning." Leon replied curtly, focusing on the foot.
"Cleaning what, exactly?" Strop persisted. Leon put the jar down and looked at Strop.
"Is this some sort of a trick question?" he growled. "Here, help me with this." He extracted the foot gingerly with is thumb and forefinger. The blue liquid ran off the foot, leaving it completely dry in a matter of moments. Leon tapped it lightly on the lip of the jar, shaking loose the last drops liquid. At a loss for words, Strop consigned himself to making a nondescript sound of bewilderment. Seeing that Stop was not immediately rushing to his aid, Leon spoke up with more specific instructions:
"I need a bandage." he explained impatiently. Knowing better than to question Leon's medical knowledge or clear lack thereof, Strop produced a linen bandage. Leon placed his cauterized stump of a foot against the foot.
"Just bandage that on there real tight." Leon instructed. Strop carefully wrapped the point of connection between the foot and the leg with the bandage, tying it tightly. He removed his his hands, hoping that he had tied it well enough that the foot did not fall off immediately. Leon test his newly reattached foot by rotating his ankle. The joint cracked loudly as he stretched it. After a few more rotations and stretches, Leon's foot was once again capable of a full range of motion without audible cracking.
"Thanks, doc." Leon said sincerely, screwing a lid onto the jar.
"That was surreal." Strop observed. Leon shrugged.
"What's up with that foot, anyway?" Stop asked after a moment, wishing he could better articulate his question. Leon smirked.
"I carry through on my threats." he answered, chuckling. Strop cocked an eyebrow, but Leon offered no further explanation.
"So Leon, you said you had something in your eye?" he asked, leaving well enough alone. Leon displayed an expression of bewilderment.
"Uh, yes. My eye. Hurts. Or something." Leon asserted.
"Right." Strop confirmed. "Well, place your chin here." Strop showed Leon the slit lamp. Leon was unimpressed.
"How?" he asked simply.
"You place your chin here. You'll have to squeeze." Strop instructed. After a few moments of awkward struggling, Leon managed to get his face into the space, chin jammed into the strap.
"Like thi- ow, what the-" Leon swore angrily as the light shined into his eye. "What are you doing to me?"
"Checking your eye." Strop answered. Leon remained slilent.
"Leon..." Strop said after a few moments.
"What?" Leon asked.
"Open your eyes." Strop instructed. Leon thought for a moment.
"No." he offered feebly.
"I need to examine your eye." Strop said.
"Can you not?" Leon asked.
"If you said you had something in your eye, you have something in your eye! Now let me examine it." the doctor commanded. Leon opened his eye with no further comment. "Thank you." Strop began to look at Leon's eye, his muzzle barely an inch from Leon's; he could feel the gnolls breath on his nostrils. Leon licked his lips. Strop cleared his throat and began to turn his head slightly to the side, trying to increase the distance between himself and Leon.
"So, uh, Leon. You won the last round." Strop said awkwardly. Leon was silent. "How are you feeling about that?" Strop pressed.
"Surprised, although things were as I expected." Leon snickered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked absentmindedly, focusing on the lamp.
"Exactly what I said." Leon asserted.
"If I may say so, your response to the Mexican standoff with Thoad was interesting. Why did you surrender?" Strop added, attempting to get more out of Leon.
"Because I was no longer necessary. I considered Thoad incapacitated and Frank on the ropes. I knew Crimson could beat Frank if he let him bleed long enough." Leon answered analytically.
"Your hyena, Marley was it?" Strop asked rhetorically.
"Yeah, Marley." Leon cut in. The hyena jumped to its feet before realizing it hadn't been summoned.
"Still alive, I see." Strop eyed the hyena. "Why the break from your usual trend?"
"I didn't want to lose him unnecessarily." Leon stated quickly. "I told you, I thought Crimson would be fine on his own." Strop nodded and resumed the eye exam for a few minutes.
"Who was that woman you were speaking to after you surrendered?" he asked thoughtfully.
"Sparrow's lover. She's alright. A little high-strung, though. Makes a big deal over things that don't really matter." Leon replied. "Never could see past her own nose."
"That's... interesting." Strop concluded.
"Clingy, too. I don't know how Sparrow deals with it." Leon growled. "I guess she needs the attention."
"Wait, who's Sparrow?" Strop asked.
"An old friend." Leon left it at that.
"Where did she come from, anyway?" Strop asked.
"You know," Leon mused more to himself than Strop "that was never adequately explained." Strop smiled.
"On that note, where are you from?" he asked.
"I'm from-" Leon began.
"No, I mean, who are you. We've gone in circles talking about this before, but who are you? What are you, why are you here? I was hoping to gain some kind of insight into your motives up to this point but I'm not sure what I have now. And that's an issue going into this final round." Strop spoke quickly.
"You ask a lot of questions." Leon observed. Strop nodded.
"I'm Leon McAcid. Archer, jeweler, traveler. I'm here because I have something in my eye."
"I mean here in Armor Games." Strop pointed out. "In this tournament."
"I heard about the tournament. I had nothing better to do." Leon laughed. "I figured it's what happens next."
"What happens next?" Strop questioned.
"I don't know." Leon assured him.
"No, what do you mean it's what happens next?" Strop restated.
"I mean it's the next event in my life. The next piece of my journey." Leon stated. "I don't know why I'm here, in Armor Games, but here I am. This tournament seems like what happens."
"Let me get this straight:" Strop started "You believe you should compete to become a moderator, not because you want to, but because you think... that's what's supposed to happen next?"
"Supposed to?" Leon laughed "If things were as they were supposed to be, I'd still be in Malaria and Bullman would be a moderator by now. Nothing happens for a reason, Strop."
"So then what is your motive?" Strop asked.
"I'm here because I am. I'm doing this because it's next. It's next because something always is." Leon explained. "Is that good enough for you?"
"No, not really, to be honest." Strop readjusted his position to better see into Leon's eye.
"What do you want?" Leon demanded.
"Why do you want to be a mod?" Strop reiterated.
"I don't. It's just the result of a series of events to which I have no objection." Leon stated.
"What would you do as a moderator?" Strop pursued the line of questioning.
"Same thing I always do: Go to the Tavern, get sloppy drunk and start a fight." Leon tried to cackle like a hyena, but the slit lamp restricted his movement; all he managed was a feeble giggle.
"You realize that, as a moderator, you would have different obligations and responsibilities." Strop said coldly.
"We'll see how it goes." Leon said seriously.
"So, if I were to eject you from this tournament, then how would you respond?" Strop asked weightily. Leon thought for a moment, lips moving slightly as he chose his words.
"Have you ever gotten into a fight in school?" Leon asked.
"I-" Strop started.
"Like, with a big, tough dude who would just beat the crap out of you? But you're so mad you just want to get one punch in, consequences be damned?" Leon continued.
"Well I can't say-" Strop thought he was supposed to answer.
"And then the dude just lays you out, beats you up in front of everyone, but you're like: 'I still broke your nose, so I don't care!'?" With that Leon pointed his front two fingers at his own eyes and brought them slowly around to face Strop's eyes. Leon bared his teeth as Strop blinked in understanding.
"You're remarkably anti-authoritarian for such a go-with-the-flow attitude." Strop observed. Leon rolled his eyes.
"Authority, flow, direction whatever." Leon shrugged. "This place is like United Utopia. Every thing is so neatly laid out."
"What do you mean?" Strop asked, doubting he would get a straight answer.
"I mean that you wake up where you sleep." Leon stated.
"Is it common for you to wake up in an unfamiliar place?" Strop asked, a little confused.
"Don't be ridiculous." Leon laughed. His face became serious. "I mean everything is so predictable. There is no flow. Only direction. It's all the same day. All the same Bull." Strop took a moment to consider Leon's words.
"But, hey, that's okay." Leon chuckled.
"What exactly did you do with yourself before you came here?" Strop asked. "Something tells me you weren't just a simple jewelry merchant."
"Same thing I do now, but with Ed." Leon shrugged. Strop thought about what that entailed for a minute.
"You don't like talking about your past, do you?" he asked finally.
"It's not the past I mind." Leon corrected. "I just don't like talking about my time in the military."
"Well, you're done. There's nothing in your eye." Strop helped Leon pull his face away from the slit lamp. Leon stood up.
"Thanks, Strop." he said. "Heel!" Marley jumped up and followed Leon to the door. Leon opened the door and stepped across the threshold.
"Wait!" Strop called. Leon stopped. "What did you do before the military?" Strop asked.
"Not much." Leon replied.
"Well where did you grow up?" Strop blurted.
"I told you." Leon said quickly. "I don't like talking about my time in the military." With that, Leon walked out, hyena in tow.

Woohoo, thanks xzeno, here we gooooo!

---

Truth and Consequence

It was only when Strop had walked out of the room, shed his doctorly apparel, and poofed back into his room that his hands started shaking.

At first, he wondered whether it was from the sheer exhaustion from the previous night. After all, he hadn't slept since the morning of that crazy semi-final round, and had spent all night getting the three injured victestants to a stable condition. In a single brief moment, he wondered in what kind of state of disrepair the castle hall would be in.

No matter, there was something far more pressing, more terrifying even, to consider. This Way of Moderation tournament. While it was fun and games (at least to him) for the most part, as things drew closer and closer to that point of no return, it was clear that things were getting away from him. That was to say, Leon McAcid, that unknown entity, seemed to loom large and unpredictable over the future of ArmorGames itself. Who would have thought that something like him would so closely resemble something like Strop, and yet be so different?

"What are your motives?" Strop had hoped, prayed even, that he was simply like the rest, those who wanted to achieve something and to do something, those he could safely say were not of the Way of Moderation. Yet he had forgotten to consider what might happen were somebody to simply walk in and take the future as it came, as he had always secretly hoped would happen but never expected from any of the candidates. Worse, he had forgotten to consider what might happen if that were the case... and that Zen-like nihilism were to be coupled with a predilection for wanton destruction. What was good, or evil? Could it be any different from what he had been doing, destroying parts of the city in vast swathes of collateral damage in a quest that quite possibly had no meaningful result?

Strop wondered why he had not thought of this angle before, yet it seemed so familiar to him. As if somebody else had been telling him all along... but he couldn't quite place it. All he knew was that somewhere in there, was the reason his hands were shaking so. Holding the weight of the expectations of a city's people in them, it was little wonder they could not be steady at the prospect of being obligated to induct a villain to authority.

Wait, this was surely too hasty. After all, Leon was hardly the most villanous of the lineup of moderators. The capricious Devoidless, for example, what of his burninating ways? How was it that they were somehow able to be mediated to something acceptable?

This too was too hasty, seeing as Crimson, as incapacitated as he was now, was still in the finals. There was still hope yet, for Crimson was diligent and of everybody the one who would always prepare... Strop frowned at himself for his lack of perspective. At the very least, he could practice what he preached and deal with things as they came, as opposed to get in a flap about that which had not happened yet. Strop flopped back on his bed, too tired to even drag the doona over him. Yes, that's how he'd approach the coming days.

Just then an envelope bearing a wax seal fluttered through the window and landed on his nose. He picked it off and tore it open.

"You are hereby summoned to the Armor City Courts of Great Justice to stand trial for the attempted murder of the user Chill-"

Alas, he had spoken too soon again.

xzenos's was very entertaining.

This is Cenere's part. It deserves its own post, despite its brevity. I've also tacked a soundtrack to it.

Fandens for en dag

Alternative title: des pas sur la neige

"Cen?" Zophia stopped in front of him, starring worried at the cold and slightly snow covered form sitting on a bench. "Are you okay?"

"She left..." He mumbled hoarsely without looking up at her, or looking at her at all.

She frowned, took his icy hands and pulled him up, nudging and mumbling soothing words as she lead him to his apartment.

she lead him to his apartment.

I don't understand D:

Oh well, misinterpretation of that segment's atmosphere aside, here's the next one, which is far more lighthearted:

The Craglands



"What are you doing here?"

The craggy voice resounded from deep within a craggy rock, deep within some godforsaken mountain range that wouldn't have done badly to be named the Badlands, were it even on any kind of map.

"What kind of question is that." It wasn't phrased as a question, for Dank was in no mood for idle chit-chat. He banged his giant hammer (the only genuine hammer of the Moderator's Banhammer series) on the walls of the rock, and a great ringing echoed interminably into the darkness. "Come on, get your sorry thirty-ton butt out of there."

"Could you stop that, I'm getting a headache." There was a distinctly sulky tone to the craggy voice.

"No," Dank grunted. "I'll do it again and again until you come out of there. And if you don't come out, I'll put aside my dwarfish pride just to cast a flood and wash you out, then cast earth and fill that hole of yours so full with mud you'll never ever live there again." And with that, he raised his hammer to strike-

A giant plume of flame issued forth from the crag, almost incinerating Dank had he not been blown out of the way by the rush of expanding air that preceeded it. Beating at his burning beard, he scrambled to his feet uttering a few choice curses just in time to face the great black horned dragon, Devoidless the Ancient. Devoidless stretched his wings, then coughed a few times.

"Sorry," he grated. "I had to blow away the cobwebs."

"Like hell you did, you ingrate," Dank snapped. "Anyway, you need to come back to-"

"I don't want to hear about it," Devoidless cut him off, reaching somewhere inside the darkness and pulling out his ban-battleaxe. "You know that legend of nobody ever finding my lair and making it back alive?"

Dank put his hands on his hips. "Are you trying to make me go away by intimidating me?"

"No, but you ought to know that legend is true..." Devoidless hefted his axe and licked the chipped edge with some flames, before "...because nobody has ever made it here before. How on earth did you get through the pass?"

Dank mumbled something incomprehensible.

"You know," Devoidless scraped his claw along his many very sharp teeth, "being Ancient, I am hard of hearing."

"Mmmblmbml." Dank muttered, barely any louder.

Devoidless leaned right over, so his head was level with Dank. "What was that?"

"MY PENICORN. IT GOES ANYWHERE." Dank shouted, simultaneously going red.

"There now, that wasn't so hard was it?" Devoidless chuffed smugly ("***hole," Dank muttered). "Though it doesn't answer the question as to how you knew to come here..."

"Oh, that." Dank shrugged. "Somebody broke into your vault in AG, so we all know where you live now. Thought you might want to know."

There was a moment of silence.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?" Devoidless roared, splitting the heavens with his fury. "I'LL KILL HER, THAT WITCH!" In the throes of wrath he raised his axe and swung it down with all his might. Right into Dank's head.

The axe made a notch in Dank's helmet, and lodged there. Dank didn't bat an eyelid.

"Also, we had to de-mod you, obviously. Security reasons, but it sounds like you already know who the culprit is." Dank explained. Devoidless fumed, then, strangely, tragically, his shoulders sagged and he shrunk a few sizes.

"Right." He said simply. "I see." He turned and slunk back into the craggy rock.

"Hey, what are you doing? Get back here!"

"Let me know when my status is restored. I'll be right here," a significantly subdued craggy voice slipped out from the rock.

Dank ripped the axe from his helmet and flung it in after Devoidless. "You can't do this! What's wrong with you! Why do you keep running away?"

There was a pause. "At first there were two reasons why I left, but now clearly there is a third. I'll come back when this all blows over." There was a cough, which echoed away into the darkness, a few scrapes, and then nothing.

she makes him feel better.
sorry if i am being rude or anything. i be tired. it's 12:30 in VIC as well isn't it?